


because i could not stop for death

by lavillanelle



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Demons, Fluff and Angst, Kit's first demon hunting mission, M/M, Near Death, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 13:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13811931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavillanelle/pseuds/lavillanelle
Summary: At that moment, Kit knew what he wanted, what he needed.Night could turn into day. All the stars painting the sky above them could burst into flames. A horde of demons could crawl from the depths of the ocean. No measure of time — not even death — would keep him away from this. Away from Ty.





	because i could not stop for death

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello! this is my very first fic in a foreign language (english is not my mother tongue) so please be nice if you catch any grammar mistakes or misspellings; also this is my very first time writing a kitty fanfic, so forgive me if they sound a bit ooc; you can find me in tumblr i'm @vlctorvale there so feel free to follow and hit my ask box :3  
> i believe that's it...happy reading!

_Because I could not stop for Death_

_He kindly stopped for me_

_The carriage held but just ourselves_

_And immortality_

**— Emily Dickinson**

* * *

 

Kit paced along the edge of the roof of the Poseidon’s Trident. He felt more anxious than usual. It was his first official mission as a proper Shadowhunter and Ty had applied the runes on his body, covering most of his exposed skin. Kit had trailed the thick black lines with careful fingers, following the subtle curves with intent eyes, trying to burn the image to his brain. Next time he wanted to be the one drawing them on Ty’s skin.

_Next time._

Kit let out a short, humorless laugh.

_What if there is no next time?_

He had been avoiding the thought of failure ever since he had crossed the Institute doors. But now there was a heavy weight pressing down on his chest, making it harder to breathe. Arthur’s words echoed in his mind like the bells of a church, thrumming loudly in the back of his head. _What kind of Herondale will you be? William or Tobias? Stephen or Jace?_

“Stop doing that.” Ty said from where he was seating at the edge of the roofline, swinging his legs mindlessly.

Kit froze where he stood and looked down at Ty. He swallowed the knot that had been forming in his throat before finally speaking.

“Doing what?” he asked.

Ty turned his head and lifted his eyes. For a brief moment, Kit thought he would lose balance and fall to his death with the intensity of that look.

Ty was utterly still and expressionless. And, in that moment, Ty’s bright grey eyes and pale skin reminded Kit of the carefully sculpted statues of gods and emperors from ancient Greece and Rome. How their faces were captured with expressions of terror and pleasure, their beauty frozen for all eternity; how their bodies seemed to have been turned into stone in mid-movement, as if they were under the spell of Medusa.

Kit thought Ty looked terribly beautiful under the silver glow of the moon, with only parts of his face hidden in the shadows. He wished he had been blessed with Julian’s talent to immortalize Ty’s sharp angles and ripped edges on canvas or marble.

“ _This._ You’re making me dizzy.” Ty said. “Stop pacing and sit down.”

Kit sighed and sat next to Ty. He looked down, where a group of mundanes were gathered in front of the Poseidon’s entrance chatting and laughing absently. Their voices were carried by the wind, bits and pieces managed to reach Kit’s ears in the form of a cold breeze. Kit knew they couldn’t see him or Ty. They were both covered in _glamour_ runes, rendering them invisible to anyone who didn’t possess the Sight.

“All right, sorry about that.” Kit said, deliberately avoiding facing Ty. “I’m just tired of waiting. We’ve been sitting here for the past two hours and _nothing._ ”

“ _I_ have been sitting here for the past two hours,” Ty corrected him. “You have been walking restlessly ever since we arrived.”

Kit sighed and reached with a ghostly touch for the _voyance_ rune imprinted on the back of his hand. Ty had been the one to give it to him. He could still remember the faint discomfort he felt as he watched the _stele_ burn his fine skin, marking him as one of them. A Shadowhunter. A Herondale. A Blackthorn.

“What’s wrong?” Ty asked suddenly. His voice startled Kit, who nearly lost his balance.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Kit hissed next to him. He didn’t have to look to know Ty had turned to face him. He could feel the moment the air had bent around them, readjusting, reforming to envelope their small forms in its invisible embrace. Kit felt his body tense under the weight of Ty’s gaze. “Ty, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Kit let out a heavy sigh.

“Like I’m some kind of problem you can solve,” he said. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Why are you lying to me?” Ty’s voice was hoarse. Kit felt his shoulders stiffen, his knuckles turned white from holding the roofline with too much force.

“I’m not lying.” Kit said through gritted teeth.

“There. You’re doing it again.” Ty said. There was no judgment in his voice, no accusation in his tone. He was simply stating a fact. When Kit didn’t answer, he continued. “It’s okay to be nervous. It’s your first mission. I’m sure Jace was afraid on his first mission too.”

Kit frowned as he stared into the endless darkness of the night sky. The stars were few and far apart, obscured by the artificial glow of the street lamps below. He thought about Jace and his unyielding confidence, his charming smile and golden eyes. Jace, who was fearless. Jace, who reminded Kit of a lion, powerful and majestic. Jace, who was the only family he had left.

Kit turned the Herondale ring on his finger with his thumb. He had grown fond of the piece of jewelry in the past couple of months and the idea of selling it in the Shadow Market was nothing more than a distant dream. His father wouldn’t be pleased to see him now; living in the Institute with the Blackthorns, wearing Shadowhunter gear and carrying _seraph_ blades, his skin bearing countless runes and scars. He could hear Johnny Rook’s voice in his head, filled with contempt, telling him what a disappointment he had become.

But Kit Rook had died months ago. He was Christopher Herondale now.

And he wasn’t lost anymore.

“I’m not Jace,” Kit said. His voice sounded distant in his own ears, as if it belonged to someone else. “I’m not Tobias, either. I’m Kit. And, yes, I’m afraid. I didn’t grow up hunting demons. I was taught only to lie and to steal. But I’m not running away.”

Kit fell silent, not knowing what else to do. After a moment, he turned his head to the side, where Ty was sitting in silence, and nearly drowned in the dense pools of quicksilver that were his eyes. Ty was looking at him and there was a glow in his eye that made Kit’s skin crawl.

“You’re a Shadowhunter. It’s in your blood.” Ty said, at last. He materialized a small knife in his hands, running the sharp blade between his fingers gracefully, with ease. His eyes were distant. His voice was barely a whisper when he spoke again. “Hunting demons is easy. It’s what we were born to do. It’s what we’ll die doing.”

_Except Livvy, she didn’t die fighting demons,_ Kit thought bitterly. But the words seemed to be made of lead, weighting heavily on his tongue. They were all still healing from the events of the Council Hall, some faster than others. But the wound Annabel carved in their chests with what was left of the Mortal Sword was still fresh, throbbing with each memory, aching with every breath. White, searing anger welled up in his stomach at the thought of Livvy. Livvy, who had been made to protect her family. Dutiful sister, brave warrior, beautiful and deadly and dead, dead, _dead._

Kit blinked slowly, bright blue eyes peering beneath fluttering eyelashes.

“Cloud, secret, highway, hurricane, mirror, castle, thorns.” Kit whispered softly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He repeated the words again and again and again. Until the white noise inside his head subdued to silence and the blood stopped ringing in his ears like war drums. “Cloud, secret, highway, hurricane, mirror, castle, thorns, Blackthorns.”

Kit swallowed thickly, his eyes fluttering open. He tried not to pay too close attention at the shadows dancing along Ty’s marble cheekbones. He looked down at the knife in his hands; the one Ty had threatened him with many moons ago, in another life. He wasn’t a Shadowhunter then. He was Johnny Rook’s son. He was a crook and a liar. He was lost and now he was found.

Kit felt cold hands holding him down, a pair of strong arms around his shoulders, protecting him from the shadows in the darkest corners of his mind like a shield made of light. Kit’s breathing was shallow; his hands were pale and frantic as he grabbed the front of Ty’s shirt between bony fingers. He buried his face in the curve of Ty’s neck. He smelled of honey and rosemary; the sweetness of his scent enough to bring Kit’s feet back on the ground.

Kit didn’t know how long they stayed tangled in one another, bodies touching, hearts beating loudly. When he was with Ty time passed differently. Minutes turned into hours, hours turned into days, days turned into a small infinite. But Kit eventually pulled away from Ty’s familiar warmth.

“Thanks,” he said in a whisper, his voice breaking. “I needed that.”

Ty gave a slow nod in response, avoiding Kit’s eyes.

“ _Quid pro quo._ ” he murmured quietly to himself.

Memories of London washed over Kit like a tidal wave; the imaginary current beneath his feet was pulling him under. He remembered Ty rocking back and forth. He remembered the pressure of Ty’s hands on his body, holding him tight; Ty’s warm breath hitting the soft skin on the curve of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

Kit mentally repeated Ty’s words, tasting their meaning on his tongue. Quid pro quo. _Bittersweet,_ he thought. _You give and I give._

“Kit,” Ty called his name and Kit forgot what he was thinking. Ty’s voice brought him back to the surface. _Breathe,_ Kit commanded himself. “Look, there’s something back there.”

Ty had grabbed a handful of Kit’s shirt, pulling him closer. Kit followed Ty’s wide eyes where his index finger was pointing to a dark corner at the rooftop. Kit couldn’t see anything.

“Where?” he asked, squinting his eyes at the shadows.

“There!” Ty hissed loudly. Did the shadows move or was Kit imagining it? He didn’t have time to know if his body was, in fact, rejecting the runes and he was losing his mind. Ty had stood up abruptly and started running forward, brandishing his knife as he was swallowed by the darkness. Kit pulled himself back on his feet, watching as Ty became one with the shadows.

“Ty! Ty, wait!” Kit screamed, but there was no one left to hear him. He cursed under his breath. “Damn you, Tiberius Blackthorn.”

Kit reached for the _seraph_ blade strapped across his back. The blade was made of _adamas_ , clear and delicate like glass. He adjusted the handle in his right hand, getting used to the weight of it. Kit brought the blade close to his face and whispered softly, the way he had seen Ty and rest of the Blackthorns do during training sessions.

_“Gabriel.”_

The blade sparked to life. White, blinding light illuminated the roof, sending the darkness away and clearing the path for Kit. His feet were careful and silent; the only noise came from the frantic beat of his heart, travelling from his chest cavity toward his ears, the echoes carried away with his blood, the sound running through his veins. _Thump thump._ He took another step. _Thump thump._ Something moved at his right. Kit stopped where he stood, stretching the arm holding the _seraph_ blade toward the source of the noise. Searing, white light blazed his fingers as it touched the metallic surface of the exhauster from the restaurant’s kitchen.

He swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Ty? Is that you?” Kit’s voice came out rough, as if his throat was wrapped in sandpaper. There was no answer.

Kit caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye and raised the blade before him. A creature leapt out from the shadows, its mouth wide open, displaying several rows of sharp teeth drenched with venom. The demon hissed at the sight of the young Shadowhunter and his fiery blade. _Kill, kill, kill._ Kit held _Gabriel_ tighter on his grip, blue eyes meeting vicious black orbs. The demon rendered an attack but Kit moved like fire, cutting the air with the white Inferno that blazed inside the _seraph_ blade.

The demon fell at Kit’s feet, dissolving into nothingness and leaving a cloud of blood and ichor behind. Kit’s jacket was ruined, stained with demon’s blood, black and viscous.

He drew a long, ragged breath.

“Oh, man, really? That was a brand new jacket.” Kit said, inspecting the damage. “Why couldn’t demons die in a pool of glitter? Or maybe just normal blood? Why it has to be disgusting, black—”

“Kit! Look out!”

Kit snapped his head back, toward the sound of Ty’s voice.

Another demon, with bottomless eyes and sharp teeth, surged forward. Kit swore, fluently and viciously. There was a distant yowling as a sudden lightning slashed across the charcoal night sky.

Kit scrambled to his feet. He could hear his own heart pounding. Ty stood behind a dense curtain of dust; the glow from his _seraph_ blade had dimmed under the blackness of demon’s ichor. If Kit moved like fire, Ty moved like water, gracefully stabbing the creature in the spine.

“You—You saved my life.” Kit said with a trembling voice.

Ty blinked, coming out of the stupor of battle.

“Yes,” he said. “I did.”

Something in Kit’s face must have changed, because confusion washed over Ty’s expression. Kit closed the distance separating the two of them, his fear suddenly gone as he reached for Ty’s chin, cleaning a small patch of black near his bottom lip.

They locked eyes. Kit didn't notice the absence of the _seraph_ blade’s glow surrounding them until Ty’s breath caught against his lips. Kit frowned and turned his head down. Ty had dropped the blade to the floor.

The next thing he saw was two sharp horns, dripping with the familiar demonic black fluid, driven across Ty’s stomach; his face was white as the moon above their heads, his eyes drenched in its silver glow.

Kit stretched out his hand and touched the coarse surface from the tip of the horns. His fingers came out stained in red. Blood. Human blood. _Ty’s blood._

Kit froze in horror. Ty fell to his knees. Blood — black under the moonlight — spread from his chest in a widening pool through the hole in his shirt. Kit knelt by his side, resting a hand on his face. He could feel Ty’s faint pulse under his fingertips. He glanced up at the hideous creature and staggered back to his feet. His hands were red with blood, staining the handle of the knife he took from his belt.

“You did this to him.” Kit said. His voice sounded bitter and far away.

Kit moved forward, the weight of the knife beneath his fingers was comforting. He lunged forward, burying the blade deep within the demon’s black orb and sending it back to whatever hellish dimension it had come from.

_Ty._ He let the knife fall from his limp hand and crawled to where Ty lay; his eyes were closed and there was blood on his lips, on his chest, on his hair. Blood everywhere.

_Everywhere._

Kit remembered the demons that killed his father, ripping him apart limb from limb. The house filled with the sound of screams; his screams. He had lost everything that day. Now, kneeling next to Ty’s unconscious form, Kit could think of only one thing. He was losing everything for a second time. _How many times can I lose the people I care about before finally breaking?_

“Ty,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Ty. I didn’t see it coming.”

_I was too lost in you. All I could see were grey eyes._

And now they’re gone. He’s gone. Just like Johnny and Livvy. Gone, gone, gone.

“Come back, Ty. Come back, come back, come back.” Kit repeated the words like a prayer, his voice low and fueled with intent. Almost as if they were part of some kind of resurrection spell and could bring Ty back.

Kit froze.

His words might not have the power to heal Ty’s injuries, but something else might. Kit scoured Ty’s pockets and found his _stele._ The rational part of him knew that no one could lose that much blood and live. _Yet..._

Kit drew out the _stele_ and started drawing an _iratze_ on Ty’s chest, where his heart was supposed to beat. His movements were slow and determined. He slashed the _stele_ across ruined skin, creating his first rune. A rune to save Ty’s life. A rune to bring him back.

_Come back, come back, come back to me._

The _iratze_ burned. Alive, alive, alive. Dark lines took shape under Kit’s careful fingers, glowing brighter. Then something extraordinary happened. Ty began to heal. Kit could feel the beat of his pulse through his skin, stronger, harder. He drew away and found grey eyes looking at him behind fluttering lashes.

“Kit?” Ty said. His voice was no more than a whisper. “Kit—What happened?”

Kit was hit with a wave of relief, crushing Ty against him.

“Ty, I thought you were dead. There was a demon and he—I thought it had killed you.” Kit said, choking on his own words. He felt Ty’s warm touch on his arm and he began to pull away.

“I saw Livvy.” Ty said, tightening his grip on Kit. “I wanted to follow her but she wouldn’t let me.”

“What?” Kit said, staring at Ty. “What are you talking about, Ty—”

“Wherever I was, Livvy was there with me.” Ty said in a little voice. “I wanted to stay with her.”

Kit swallowed thickly.

“Why didn’t you?”

Ty looked up at him with wide grey eyes.

“Because of Julian, Emma, Mark, Helen, Dru, Tavvy.” he said in that same little voice. “Because of you.”

Ty’s words made his chest ache, shattering it in a thousand little pieces. The shards seemed to cut through his heart sharply, painfully.

Kit’s hands burned with the desire to pull Ty against him. Instead, he touched two fingers on the curve of Ty’s neck, feeling his warm skin and his frantic pulse. _Alive, alive, alive._

“I thought I was dreaming until I heard your voice.” Ty said and hooked his index finger on the collar of Kit’s shirt. His eyes were shining. “But it was real. You are real, Kit.”

Kit opened his mouth but no sound came out. Words had all lost their meaning and he could only stare at Ty. He wondered if Ty could see the panic written across his features, if he could hear his heart beating loudly. After everything they’d been through these last few months, Kit finally understood the painful void in his chest, the longing for something. _Someone,_ Kit thought.

He caught Ty’s face in his hands and kissed him like his life depended on that, like his heart would stop if their lips broke apart. Kit felt the moment Ty hesitated when he first pressed his mouth on his. Kit started to loosen his grip on Ty, but he reached up and knotted his fingers in the ruined fabric of Kit’s jacket, pulling him under.

Kit could feel Ty’s frantic heartbeat, echoing against his chest, travelling through his veins. He could feel the walls he had carefully built slowly crumbling down, turning to dust; the press of their lips together a reminder of everything he never knew he wanted.

Kit's chest was heaving and the emptiness that had been there before Ty was gone. It was mesmerizing how Ty was able to fill the void inside him with a single touch. The way his tongue rolled between his lips with ease. The way his hand skated across Kit’s chest, firm and gently. The way his brows furrowed when they finally pulled apart, as if he was only now beginning to understand a difficult concept.

“Ty,” Kit whispered against his lips. “Say something.”

Kit watched Ty press his fingers on his lips, closing his eyes. For a second he thought Ty would push him away, but there was a subtle tilt of his head forward. Toward Kit, not away.

“Do you think—” Ty said, swallowing hard. “Do you think I could still be dreaming, Kit?”

Kit looked down at Ty, reaching for his face once more.

“This isn't a dream, Ty,” he said. “This is real. _We are_ real.”

Ty started to reach for Kit’s lips the same way he had done with his, with tentative fingers.

“I don’t want to go back to the Institute. I want to stay here,” Ty said, looking up to meet Kit’s eyes. “With you.”

_Stay,_ Kit thought as he leaned down to kiss him. _Stay with me._

Time seemed to have lost its meaning under the heat of bodies pressed closely together and breaths caught between parted lips. The concept of it wasn’t something Kit could fully comprehend, not solid enough for his trembling hands to grasp. He knew this couldn’t last long. Soon, rather than later, they’d have to return to the Institute. But he didn’t care. At that moment, Kit knew what he wanted, what he _needed._

Night could turn into day. All the stars painting the sky above them could burst into flames. A horde of demons could crawl from the depths of the ocean. No measure of time — not even death — would keep him away from _this._ Away from Ty.


End file.
